the shadow whisperer

i detest the light
and the dark
and their silent
teasing illicit 
offspring
the shadow

which gets so close to you
that it can lay its bare hands on you
choose to show some of you
and hide the rest of you

like a white devil
it stands behind you
looking over your shoulder
looking at me
mocking

i am on her
it says
i do with her
as i please

the inside of her thighs
and the underside of her breasts 
i kiss

she lies in with me
irrespective of which side
her face or hips
turn
i am there

as i please 
i do

look at me
it says
look into my hollow eyes
and tell me you don't
really wish it was
you

i detest 
i detest 
from the bottom of my 
emotion infested gut

turned inside out
upside down
i know i should look away
but look on
jealous
burnt
broken
i must

eden

felicity

frisson

icarian

i want to cut the moon
into fine thin lines
of the winter's first snow
and take a hit

the dark black sky
my blotting paper 
dipped in yellow sunshine
a perfect balance of the 
yin and the yang

i need to keep it 
on the tip of my tongue 
and roll my tongue
into my mouth
like how the wave 
rolls up 
and vanishes
into the sea

one rush
after the other

summon the blue devils
and the wonder star
the white dove
sailing across
the sky
look how she flies

i want to dance with the devil
dance till the blue is black
and the white is red
and eat the star
and pet the dove
as she sits on my arm

crush the star
grind it fine
and cover myself in your angel dust
leaving a trail of smoke
emitting from 
flesh made divine

and all that

i need to do 

all that

just so that it resembles 
the hot shiver 
that runs down my spine 
as my mouth and lips and tongue 
meet my beloved's

balm

why does stepping out 

on a sunny day

feel like walking under drops of plastic rain 

and the air like sheets of glass

and water running through me

like with its jagged shards

why do i think of you

why do i think

that coming to you

would take that all away

make it all okay

why does

your blanket

feel like home

and the one on my bed

in my room

holds no warmth

why does the soft dim yellow light

in which your room basks

make the light that i hear

as i sit in what was my corner

seem like a thousand

angry agitated

madmen

shouting at me

why do i think of you

when they do

that

why do i think

that if you'd put your arm

around my chest

or let me put mine

around your waist

just by doing that

you could make this cacophony

petter down

silhouette of a moment

lull

while

a shirt
a dark white shirt
with a breast pocket
and a pen

not just any pen
a fountain pen
given as a gift
on my 1st death anniversary

it was black
shiny like ceramic

and the tip
the tip was silver
the tip of the cap
and the tip
at the bottom

it caught light beautifully
and threw out words

its fuel
was ink
regardless of the colour

on ink it fed
and satisfied my hunger
by the words it threw out

my breast pocket
and the pen
its best friend
always together
did fantasy trips together
chased dreams
lost causes
sulked and moaned
and roared
together

one day
one dull
bright 
saturday afternoon

both of them
high on life
decided to give it up
decided to give it all up

are you done
the pocket
asked the pen
i think so
replied the pen

you
asked the pen
me too
said the pocket

but can we please
do it together
hand in hand

wouldn't imagine
it any other way
one of them asked
both replied

so then
the pen
nestled in the pocket
and bled
silently bled dry

the pocket
which was the colour
of a dark white
was the colour 
of the pen's insides

absorbing all the pen 
had to give
giving itself up
as it did

and then it was all quiet
still
serene

and i saw them
from a distance
on a bright dull
saturday afternoon

a sad smile
the within me

and me
without

played out 
by a pen and a pocket

when would it be my turn
i thought

within replied
with a hand on my heart
in a while
my friend
in a short while

isle of timelessness

you take me 

and place me
in  a world
rendered timeless
with your words
spoken 

unsaid

this world
is one
which does not come
with the feeling of a start
or one coming to an end
this world, is

it is
hanging in soft suspension
moving swaying
gently
fervently  

to the music of jazz
the milky way

the rhythms and blues
the moon

and 70's rock
the sun

this world is
it exists

because
you
do

and

because

i

do

as a figment
of our collective
imagination
and animalism

and

as tangible as
the physicality of thought

and the unreal
luminous
gossamer,

a very  
veridical
touch

this world
the one you place me in
exists

in its own mind
and body
and yours and mine

and in ours

this place
is not one
with a start
or one coming to an end

this world
this place
its inhabitants
us

timeless
floating spirits
sometimes
screeching
sometimes, soothing
sometimes
needfully close
sometimes
comfortably afar

this world
is
because
you are

because
we are

what else is there
what else is there
beyond
timelessness

a shared timelessness
encapsulated into
moments

in a world

which has no
start
or an end

it just is
its swaying is
its soft suspension is
its invisibility
and its presence is

it is

the time

between

the ticking of watch hands

and the grains of sand

in a sand clock

it is the space 

in an empty glass

and a soaked within

it is a world

created 

by itself

a world

existence, of which

was willed 

by itself

because 

we breathe

and we will

and we want

and we want forever

this forever is 

the measure of time

in this world

the one that you place me in

with your words

spoken

unsaid

selective knowing

i know, sometimes, why this needs to be done

sometimes, i think i know,

why you need to go

the sun, 

isn't it?

it is because of the sun

during the day,

when you're gone

you are there,

you are behind the sun

aren't you?

the brightness

the light

the blinding serene yellow bright light

the one coming from the sun

comes from 

what's behind the sun,

you

i know now, why you need to go 

sometimes

i do

and then some nights

when the sheets are cold

and when my feet are curled up

when your absent fingers 

trace my spine

and lips that i miss

kiss my neck

i know,

why this is how it must be

the moon

isn't it?

it is because of the moon

it needs to feel full

and complete

and beautiful too

some nights

it must

and you are the one

who the moon needs

aren't you?

you're the one

holding its hand

coaxing it 

with your honey words

and soothing touch

and silken eyelashes

coaxing it

to not be shy

and shine

to come out of the shadows

and show its

wholesome form

it's you 

isn't it?

i know now, why you need to go 

sometimes

i do

i know, sometimes, why this needs to be done

sometimes, i think i know,

why you need to go

but only

sometimes

about the other times

i can't reason

or make peace

with my mind

it isn't that i can't

find answers

if i really wanted to find

them

i choose not to

why should i?

i ask

why should i?

the sun and the moon

i know they need you

and i know you must do

what you have to

but even then

the sun and the moon

can never 

want you

need you

miss you

the way i do

so i say this

my solemn promise

sometimes, i'll understand
why you need to go

but only sometimes

seep

what feeling, baby

she asks
legs
tangled 
in her bed sheet
her torso
bare

that feeling 
which makes me want to melt all over you
spread all over you
like a liquid
fluid
where i glide over your skin
every curl
every curve
like if i miss out even a single spot 
it wouldn't do
like it has to be complete
total
like it  has to cover the skin between your toes
like it has to enshroud every hair on your head
like it has to blanket your hips
and covert your breasts
like it has to glaze your legs
and wrap your arms
like it needs to pour down your mouth
         trickle down your chin and neck
like it has to glide against the walls of your throat
like it has to build a nest in your stomach
like it has to be there 
like effervescence in your breathe
like it has to match the scent of your wetness
like it has to taste like your saliva
like it has to become 
the warmth of your body
and the thump in your chest

that feeling

fractured weave

i only keep my hand

longer on your face

across your neck

on the small of your back

in hope

that my hands remember this

this feeling

for i have tried before

running my fingers and hand

across my face, closing my eyes

imagining

it is your hand, your fingers

it never feels the same

how does my very own hand

and my very own fingers

betray me so

my very own extensions

mocking my inadequacy

what does your hand have

what do your fingers do 

that is so special

what you hold

what you hold

is a spell

written in lead

i want to be that pencil

that you hold

in your hand

your fingers wrapped around me

with a purpose

leading me

me a pencil

and your fingers, together taut

in a slow tango

across the ballroom of lined paper

or even blank

how does that matter

it does not

not one bit

all that matters

is that we dance

we dance and not stop

right now

right now

i want to rip my clothes off

rip them off

and get on the floor

on my four

arch my back

and stretch my neck

and raise my face

facing you

my moon

my very own special moon

the rising of you

raising an animal

inside me

like a beast

not harmful or vicious

one just led by his instincts

his instincts ruled over

by your scent

the scent of the moon

the scent of the moon

you

i raise my head and howl

i howl

begging you

to fill me up

with your scent

these moonbeams

are paths made by your scent

teasing me

telling me

to follow them

that they would lead me to you

so i follow

i howl and i follow

you are up there

aren't you

looking down

from your celestial box

looking at this man beast

less a man more a beast

every passing minute

not one that is vicious

or malicious

just following

your scent

the scent of the moon

tempest

make this night stay

make this night stay

don't let it go

make sure it does not leave

here,

let me hold your hand

as you extend your arm

to clasp the night 

in your palm

the colour 

of the night

black

blue

dark blue

and 

a sprinkle of

white

colours of the night

daub

your hands

squeeze the night

squeeze it harder

till your knuckles

blush

constrict the night

till its colours ooze

transude

smother it

till the night has 

beads of sweat

on its forehead

upper lip

tip of the nose

smother it

till

it has no choice but

to open its mouth 

to breathe

and raise its hips 

to meet the thick

oxygen halo

looming

right above

make it 

lick

its drying lips

make them 

part

so that we can feed it

forcibly, if needed

pills of ecstasy 

wrench

the night

this sweetly thick 

musky night

take away it colours

wrench it hard

till its colours

ooze 

transude

a saturated sponge

this night

needs to be relieved

of its dark dark dark beauty

makes those colours

run up your wrist

your forearm

your underarm

your collarbone

your neck

your face

your eyes

i will catch them

when they reach your lips

and drink the colours

along with you

as we sit

alongside ourselves

watching us

sipping on the night

from our

primitive cups

we shall watch

the colours of the night

enter you

running down your throat

to your satin stomach

to the inside of your thighs

we'll let the night

and its colours

believe

that they both 

can escape

but

just when they think

they really can

we'll trap the colours

of the night

between our hips

and take these liquidly colours 

and grind them

to a fine fine powder

and smear it all over our bodies

covering every inch

of our skin

our mouths full

our nostrils flaring

the pores on our skin

breathing 

inhaling the night

and its colours

black

blue

dark blue

and 

a sprinkle of

white